


Three Lies

by charbunny



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: A lot of pain, Canon-adjacent, Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reunion Fic, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, anduin is trans and bi, eventually, genn greymane sucks, if blizzard won't acknowledge anduin's pain then i will, or sort of slow burn anyway, physically and emotionally, wrathion is nonbinary but that doesn't come up here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 02:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19820299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charbunny/pseuds/charbunny
Summary: The boy-king tells three lies.A broken heart hits the floor.In other words, Wrathion comes back.





	1. Hit the Floor

It was one of those nights in which Anduin wrapped himself in as many layers as he could, and went out into the cold, sneaking out of the castle in civilian clothes just to wander. It got dark so early now, as winter was approaching, and it was so easy to sneak out. No one, not even the guards, wanted to be out.

Even if they’d known about it, the guards were powerless to stop him now. He wasn’t just a prince anymore, after all.

He was king.

Not that he liked that.

There was always some semblance of reasoning for his sneaking out, but Anduin could never quite place what it was. He told himself it was to think, to clear his head, to escape from the confines of his castle that ceaselessly reminded him that, yes, he was king, and yes, Stormwind Keep was empty save for the guards and himself. His father was gone, and the castle was so quiet. It was hard to live in it.

But that reasoning never really sat right with him, no matter how many times he snuck out, and justified it to himself.

Even under his coat, Anduin was shivering. He knew it was bad for him to be out in the cold; it always made his pain act up, his knees stiffening from the shaking of his body, but he simply couldn’t keep himself away.

He liked seeing the lights on in the houses along the canals, to know his people were warm and safe under his leadership. It made him feel less incompetent, less like his being king was meaningless under the weight of his father’s legacy.

No matter how many times he heard Genn talking behind his back about how he needed to be protected, for his youth meant a lack of wisdom, it didn’t nag at the back of his mind any less.

He thought himself to be fairly wise for an eighteen-year-old.

Anduin stopped to admire the plants growing on the front porch of his best friend, Aemara. He was always so good at growing things, his hands healing and soft even though he was so harsh on the battlefield. Anduin didn’t linger long, but he did pause to smile.

As he walked away, he suddenly had the feeling of being watched.

He’d felt it many times during his walks, and he held his dagger, concealed well beneath his coat, a little tighter. But nothing had ever happened, so he wasn’t particularly nervous.

Anduin found that his feet were taking him through Cathedral Square, and then he was walking down the dirt path through Stormwind City Cemetery.

It wasn’t often that he went down to visit his mother’s grave, mostly because he hardly knew her. But even so, he missed her.

He’d always wished that he’d been able to know her.

Her grave always had fresh flowers placed on its surface, and he'd always wondered who kept that up after his father's death. He'd thought that perhaps he should've picked it up, but could never bring himself to. It was nice to know that at least someone was taking care of it.

As he began to kneel down before her memorial, his gaze fixed on the words "Tiffin Ellerian Wrynn" in sprawling print above the grave, a pair of arms caught him around his middle.

 _Shit,_ Anduin thought, _I put down my guard._

He reached for his dagger, but before he could grab it, a familiar voice spoke, warm breath brushing his ear.

“Now, now. Don’t be so hasty, my King.”

Suddenly, the arms dropped, and Anduin stumbled forward, his bad leg aching as he whipped around to face a man he hadn’t seen in three years.

“ _Wrathion,_ ” Anduin began, sadness and distaste dripping from his words, as well as his eyes. “You have some audacity, coming here to me.”

Wrathion was in commoner clothes, and his curly hair was bared for the world to see. Even draped in such a dour outfit, he was still so regal.

That smirk that Anduin had come to know, come to _love,_ spread across the dragon’s face. “You didn’t think I’d be gone forever, did you? I thought you knew me better than that, Anduin.”

Anduin was having a hard time standing, his body shaking not only from the cold, but from his aching knee, which was only hurting more by the second. He ripped the dagger from its hidden holster, and held it up.

“You are a traitor to the Alliance, a _wanted criminal,_ and you dare show your face here? I should have you locked up, or worse, killed, after what you did to me,” hissed Anduin through his teeth and his tears.

The smile dropped from Wrathion’s face, a sour pout replacing it. “Well, not quite the reception that I expected.”

Anduin could barely see through his tears. He’d _missed_ him, and hated him for leaving, and wanted him back so badly and now, all he could do was cry. Wrathion had been _everything_ to him, and yet, Anduin couldn’t let him saunter back into his life, into his heart. He’d hurt him deeply, after everything they had done together, how close they had grown, and Anduin couldn’t forgive it, no matter how much he wanted nothing more than to do so.

“Of _course_ not,” Anduin began, voice small and weak through his pain. He’d bitten his lip too hard trying to keep his composure, and now blood was dripping down his chin and onto the ground before his mother’s grave. “Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me? How much pain you’ve caused? How much I’ve suffered in your absence? I wish you’d never come back. I wanted to see you so badly, but, gods, I couldn’t handle it, and I _can’t._ ”

Anduin couldn’t hold himself up anymore. The pain was too much. His knees buckled, and he hit the dirt, catching himself on his hands and knees, his dagger sliding across the ground. His tears, and his blood, were staining the dirt.

“My father _died,_ and you _knew!_ I know you knew, because you always keep tabs. And you weren’t here. He was all I had left. You didn’t _care!_ And the nightmares I've had because of what you did to me before Garrosh’s cell, you wouldn’t _believe,”_ and Anduin realized he was shouting now, and Wrathion was only standing there, watching him with that detached stare of his.

“Either kill me, or leave, Wrathion,” Anduin said, voice hiccupping, his mind swimming. “Whatever you’re here for, I don’t want it. I can’t want it.”

Finally, Wrathion spoke up. “You expect me to leave you here, Anduin, when you can barely stand?”

Anduin’s head shot up, his fiery gaze locking onto Wrathion’s. “Oh, so you care, now? What about all the times I couldn’t get out of bed in the morning because I was in so much pain? Or when I visited the place where my father died upon the Broken Shore, and hit the ground so hard that I couldn’t walk for three days, and Genn had to carry me home? Where were you then? I’ve made it home on my own a hundred times without your help, and I’ll do it again.”

His gaze was getting foggy. The winter chill was getting to him.

He wanted to go home.

Anduin pressed against the ground with his hands, lifting himself into a kneeling position, and slowly, he stood, his legs shaking like a newborn deer.

Wrathion still hadn’t moved.

“As the High King of Stormwind, I command you to leave here this instant, Wrathion,” and Anduin stumbled as he began to walk past Wrathion, his breath heavy and labored. “I hope, for your sake, that we don’t meet here again.”

As he walked past, he could feel Wrathion’s eyes on him, but couldn’t bear to look back.

All the way back to Stormwind Keep, the feeling of being watched hung over Anduin like a rain cloud. He had to take frequent breaks, leaning against the sides of buildings, his warm breath fogging from the cold.

Finally, he climbed the steps to Stormwind Keep in the dark, greeting the guards gently as they scolded him for sneaking out, the two of them worrying over his split lip and asking what had happened. He explained it away as just his nerves, and told them that nothing bad had happened. The oppressive gaze that was following him didn’t go away, and the feeling of it followed him up the stairs to his quarters, even though he knew that Wrathion couldn’t have followed him inside.

The door to his room creaked open, and he closed it swiftly behind him, the bad feeling that had lingered over him lifting as he breathed a sigh of relief. He stripped his many layers off, ripping his chest bindings off over his head as swiftly as he could manage, and changed into his most comfortable nightclothes. When his legs could hold him no longer, he hit the bed, curling up beneath the blankets, his arms wrapped tightly around a pillow that had long represented the space left behind by a black dragon who left him long ago.

He fell asleep crying.


	2. A Masquerade

Genn had suggested a few months prior that Anduin needed to throw a royal ball to find himself a suitor.

“You need to continue the Wrynn line, Anduin,” Genn had said, and Anduin could barely help from rolling his eyes. What Genn didn’t know was that marrying a woman would be pointless for that purpose in particular, and yet Genn insisted that only women would be allowed in the ball.

At the suggestion, Anduin was already tired.

And now, the evening, and the party, was fast approaching. The ballroom in the Keep was richly decorated, with shimmering gold and blue tapestries and decorations scattered about the room. It was as if the room was glowing, and Anduin, dressed in matching gold and blue, glowed with it.

He was exhausted, and the guests weren’t even there yet.

It didn’t help that he’d hardly slept in the last month.

Aemara, his best friend and bodyguard, stood at his side, his arm wrapped around Anduin’s shoulders to support him as Anduin leaned his head on the draenei.

“It’ll be all right,” Aemara was saying, trying to reassure his friend. “The night will be over before you know it, Anduin. I’ll stay with you after if you’d like; I know you haven’t been sleeping, and I know how miserable you get when you're alone at night.”

Anduin sighed, watching the clock, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before all the masked women would be filing into the ballroom.

“That’s okay, you don’t need to stay. I’d appreciate you walking me back to my room, though. I doubt my legs will appreciate me being on my feet for four hours,” Anduin replied, managing a small laugh to reassure Aemara that he would be okay.

Aemara sighed, patting Anduin’s head. “Well, I’ll be here all night. If you need me, don’t hesitate to ask. But I won’t be participating in the party, of course. Never been good at socializing.”

Anduin groaned. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. All of them will just be vying for my attention. They won’t want to talk to anyone else, I’m sure.”

A shout came echoing through the ballroom. “Our esteemed guests shall be entering soon!” Genn Greymane’s voice had never sounded worse to Anduin’s ears, and he couldn’t stand him in the first place.

Aemara gave Anduin the smallest bit of a smile, a rare thing for him. “Good luck. Remember, I’m here if you need anything.”

“Gotcha,” Anduin said, and he forced himself to stand up straight, straightened his crown the best he could (which Aemara promptly fixed), and tried to look as regal as possible.

Maybe, if he was intimidating enough, they’d leave him alone.

Yeah, right.

As the ballroom doors glided open, the orchestra that Genn had put together began to play, and the room was filled with the chatter of more than a hundred mask-clad women.

This was going to be a long night, Anduin had decided.

He knew that he was supposed to join the women on the ballroom floor, but he felt frozen in place, like a fly on the wall.

Suddenly, Genn appeared at his side. “What do you think you’re doing, my King? You should be dancing among them.”

Anduin looked helplessly at Aemara, who himself was helpless to do anything for Anduin.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Anduin replied. And although each step was harder than the last, he walked down the steps before him and into the fray.

Immediately, he was surrounded by women, all vying for a chance to speak to him. There were simply too many to speak to at once, so he simply smiled at them and attempted to be kind as they grabbed at his sleeves and tried to pull him to the side of the room or another, telling them politely that he had others he needed to talk to.

Not being able to make eye contact with any of the masked women was jarring, because that was something he had been taught through all of his childhood: making eye contact and smiling was the base for being polite. But this was a masquerade, and the idea was for him to decide not by looks but by substance, by personality. Since he’d turned down arranged marriage, and shallow ways of picking a partner such as looks, Genn had done everything in his power to put Anduin in a situation with no excuses.

Anduin felt sick to his stomach.

Eventually, he got dragged into a dance with a black-haired woman who seemed to be around his age, who was talking to him about her interests as they danced. She was interesting; enjoyed drawing and painting, and was skilled in martial arts. She was also a very good dancer, he noted. And, from what he could see of her, she was beautiful.

He thought that perhaps, if he’d been in a better mindset, he could’ve been interested in her. He certainly would be interested in a friendship. But before he could really get to know her, he got passed to another dance partner, and promptly lost her in the crowd.

So much for that.

He was passed from dance partner to dance partner, learning a few things about each person before being passed to the next. The hours went by so slowly that it was agonizing; his feet and legs were killing him, not to mention his headache.

It was a lot for him to handle on so little sleep.

Lost in thought, he was helplessly passed to another partner.

This woman was dressed in a long, expensive-looking black and red dress, covered in sparkling red gems. She was wearing a mask shaped like a raven’s head, with her unruly, curly black hair flowing out of the back of it.

Oddly, she wasn’t speaking.

As they were dancing, Anduin noticed that she wasn’t a very good dancer.

It reminded him of dancing with Wrathion to test his strength after the Divine Bell incident.

 _Of course,_ Anduin thought, _of course my mind would wander back to him now._

There was a time and place for sadness, and now was not the time.

It would look bad on his leadership.

As Anduin focused back in on their dance, he realized that their waltz was leading them to the outside of the crowd, and suddenly became a bit nervous.

She hadn’t said anything the whole time, and now it seemed like she was trying to lead him away from the crowd.

Not ideal.

“Um, shouldn’t you pass me to another partner?” Anduin began, looking around nervously for another dance partner. All of the other pairs were too far away.

Suddenly, the woman got very close to Anduin, pressing herself against him.

Anduin’s heart lurched.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, my King.”

Suddenly, Anduin came to a realization that made his stomach drop.

There was a reason why she hadn’t been talking.

It was a deeper, familiar voice, an _all too familiar_ voice. She was not a woman at all, but a dragon in disguise.

The dragon he least wanted to see.

Anduin gasped, and, avoiding making a scene and continuing their dance unimpeded, hissed, “What are you doing here? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

He heard that laugh he’d come to covet during his time in Pandaria come from behind the mask, and then he was sure of who it was that he was dancing with.

“Of course not, my King. I simply couldn’t let all these suitors appear before you and not make an appearance myself.”

Anduin kept himself from scowling. “Didn’t I tell you not to show yourself before me again?”

Wrathion sounded morose as he spoke. “I apologize,” and as much as Anduin hated to admit it, he sounded sincere. “I couldn’t keep myself away.”

Anduin’s heart leapt, but he willed it to still.

“Now was not the time to show yourself,” Anduin responded, his voice cold and quiet. “You could get yourself killed should anyone find out.”

Wrathion spun Anduin around him, taking the lead even though they both knew he was a terrible dancer.

“No one will,” he said as the music picked up, and the dance grew faster around them as they waltzed back toward the middle of the ballroom floor. “If they didn’t find me out before I got in here, they won’t find me out now. Unless you rat me out, of course, my dear.”

Anduin could see the surrounding women looking jealously at this woman who was getting to spend so much time dancing with their King. He caught a glimpse of Aemara, the draenei’s face contorted into a squint as he kept a careful eye on the woman Wrathion was pretending to be.

With a sigh, Anduin replied, “…You know I couldn’t do that.”

Anduin could practically feel Wrathion’s smile under the mask.

“After the party,” began the dragon, “do you think we could go somewhere to talk?”

Even though Anduin found himself grateful for Wrathion’s presence, feeling much safer with him than with the multitude of women in the room, he blanched at the idea of going somewhere to be alone with the dragon.

“For one thing, you act as though it would not raise suspicions if I disappeared at the end of the night with a mysterious woman, who, as we both know, does not exist. Also, how am I to know you won’t betray me again? How do I know this isn’t simply a ruse to get me alone so that you can knock me out again?” Anduin didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but every time he had so much as thought about Wrathion in the last month, his sadness and anger bubbled to the surface.

“You are clever, and always scheming, Wrathion. I know this better than anyone. You always said that I shouldn’t trust you, and now, I don’t.”

He heard Wrathion begin to speak, but Anduin was suddenly pulled away by another woman, and Wrathion was pulled away, as well, and they were lost to each other in the dance once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i do want to note that i did not at all intend for wrathion being in a dress to be fetishy or to fit the "man in a dress" trope in any way. i'm a gnc trans man and i wear dresses and i see nothing wrong with mr. nonbinary himself wearing a dress, especially as a disguise. but i'm happy to explain my reasoning if anyone needs that!
> 
> i had fun with this chapter. i hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Pieced Back Together

Aside from his run-in with Wrathion, the ball had mostly just been exhausting and uninteresting. The few people that he met that he liked got lost fairly quickly, and once they were gone, the night got tiring again.

At the end, he felt like nothing but a husk of himself, exhausted and wishing to be alone.

As the last guests filed out of the ballroom and out of the castle, Anduin weakly climbed the steps to Aemara’s side.

“Anduin,” Aemara said, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you? It looked like you had an awful time.”

Anduin was so glad that Genn was out mingling with the aristocrats who had attended the party. “Yeah. It was miserable,” Anduin said, his head hanging as he rested it against Aemara’s arm. “I’m so tired. I don’t think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.”

Aemara’s expression grew sympathetic, and he wrapped an arm around Anduin’s shoulders. “How about I walk you up to your room? I don’t want you tripping or falling down any stairs.”

Anduin nodded slowly, his regal energy draining swiftly with each passing second. Not saying anything more, Aemara wrapped his arm around Anduin’s middle and began walking with him up the stairs away from the ballroom, acting as his crutch. Anduin was so grateful for his friend’s help, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Wrathion.

As Aemara dropped him off at his room, Anduin thanked the draenei, and Aemara gave him a hug as a comfort.

“I’ll come have breakfast with you in the morning, okay, Anduin?”

Anduin smiled weakly, pulling open the door to his room. “I’d like that.”

As he began down the stairs, Aemara called up, “Goodnight, Anduin.”

“Goodnight, Aemara,” Anduin called back, and closed the door.

Getting into bed was sheer agony. There were so many intricate ties and ribbons and buttons on his outfit, and he kept finding new ones. He cursed formality, and finally escaped his outfit. As he was changing into his nightclothes, he heard a series of taps against his window.

That window was a secret that he kept; through some lonely, desperate wish that he’d had three years ago, he'd decided to leave the window unlocked, in case Wrathion ever came back. If the guards knew about it, they’d have scolded him, telling him it was a security risk.

But Anduin’s heart just hurt. He figured he would’ve stopped leaving it unlocked by now, and by some foolish, exhausted luck, he’d forgotten to lock it after Wrathion’s return.

And now, there was a black drake sitting on his windowsill.

Said black drake was carefully trying to avoid the flower pots.

Anduin quickly slipped on his night shirt and called to the window.

“It’s unlocked.”

He saw the confusion on the dragon’s face as he nudged the window open with his nose. Anduin was already on his bed, unable to stand much longer, and he watched the dragon squeeze through the small window.

In barely seconds, the dragon had transformed into a more human form.

“I am surprised. Why do you leave your window open?” said Wrathion, straightening out his disheveled clothes.

A small orange cat jumped up on the bed beside Anduin and fluffed up at the sight of the dragon.

Anduin slowly petted it, and it calmed, sitting down beside him on the bed.

“I suppose it was some foolish hope left over from when I was fifteen,” Anduin replied, not looking away from his cat. “I hoped for a long time that you’d come back. But I guess one day I just forgot to lock it again.”

The dragon shifted awkwardly, and said, “I apologize for intruding.”

This caused Anduin to pause his comforting of the cat and look up at the dragon. “…It’s okay. I let you in, did I not?”

Wrathion cleared his throat and seemed to gain his composure back. “Is it all right if we talk? I am aware that you told me not to come here, and to go away. But, I’d at least like to apologize to you before I go away for good, as you asked.”

Anduin was tired. It was clear on his face after the make-up had been removed; the skin beneath his eyes was dark, and his movements were slow and sluggish.

He had the look of someone who was suffering.

“I suppose I can’t really stop you, now that you’re here, can I?” Anduin replied, a pillow now grasped in his arms. “Come sit. I won’t make you stand.”

Wrathion’s face softened. He approached slowly and sat beside Anduin, being careful to sit on the side opposite Anduin’s cat.

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” the dragon said, watching the cat as it was watching him: cautiously.

“Ah, yeah. He came home with me one day after one of my walks. His name is Pumpkin.”

“Well,” Wrathion said, addressing the cat, “I apologize for intruding, Pumpkin. I promise I will leave soon.”

Anduin hated that he didn’t want him to anymore.

“What is it that you wanted to say, Wrathion?”

Wrathion was visibly nervous, which was unlike him. “I wanted to… well, make it clear to you that I didn’t intend to leave for so long, nor did I intend to leave you to suffer through… well, everything, during my absence. There were some… circumstances that prevented my return, paramount of which being that if I was not careful, I could’ve been executed just for setting foot in Stormwind. But I did not wish to be away from you, Anduin, despite my transgressions, and I did not want you to think that I have any ill will toward you.

“I wish you only the best, my dear, and although I know that perhaps my sins against you have been too great for you to forgive me, understand that if you need anything…” He trailed off. “Well, you know. I suppose I should go… I’ve said more than I intended to, and as you said, you would have preferred that I never returned.” The dragon started to get up.

Anduin was fighting back tears. “I lied,” was all he could say before tears were turning his white pillowcase gray. “I lied, Wrathion. I couldn’t… I was so hurt, I _am_ so hurt. But I didn’t want you to go… I _don’t_ want you to go. I just felt that… perhaps it would’ve been easier if I had just lived the rest of my life missing you.

“I thought, perhaps, someday, I would’ve gotten over you. But I didn’t. And I haven’t.”

Wrathion reached to put a hand on Anduin’s shoulder but stopped himself. “Anduin, I… I apologize for what I’ve put you through. You don’t have to take me back. You never do. Just say the word, and I will leave just as I came, if that is what you desire.

“But know this: I will always love you.”

Anduin was simply weeping now, wiping his face on his pillow, with Pumpkin trying to climb into his lap to comfort him. “I wish you were lying, Wrathion,” he whimpered. “It hurts… I spent so long missing you and thinking that you never cared, and never would, and somehow, it hurt less… But to think that all this time, you wanted to come back and couldn’t, I…” Anduin lifted his head to look at Wrathion, trying with all his might to look him in the eye.

“I don’t want you to go. I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave now…”

He was so tired. He wanted nothing more than to reach for Wrathion, to hold him as tightly as he could and not let him go. It was all he had wanted for _three years,_ and Wrathion was sitting here before him.

Anduin couldn’t help but wonder if he was imagining it.

Wrathion spoke, his voice a balm to Anduin’s shattered heart. “If you’re certain that that is what you want, then I’ll stay.”

Anduin looked to him and, wordlessly, held out his arms.

The dragon looked hesitant for a moment, unsure, and then slowly pulled Anduin close to him. He treated him like something fragile, to be cherished and protected, rather than a figurehead, a symbol of strength and reverence. In Wrathion’s arms, Anduin was not a king, but a sad, broken boy.

Anduin’s arms were weak now, but he held onto Wrathion with all of his might.

“I missed you, Wrathion. I missed you more than words can ever begin to express,” Anduin wept, his face buried into Wrathion’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry… I treated you so horribly, and I hated you, and I must’ve hurt you.”

Wrathion, with all the caution of someone picking up a dying bird, held Anduin closer. “Your apology is unnecessary,” he replied. “It was what I deserved, and I understood that. I needed to hear it.”

Anduin was simply sniffling now. “Wrathion, I’m… I’m so tired…”

“I know,” Wrathion said. “I’m sorry.”

“I wanted you back more than anything…”

“I know.”

“I can’t tell you… how happy I am… to see you again…”

Anduin was falling asleep.

“Anduin, love. You need to rest.” Wrathion began to shift away from Anduin, giving him room to get into bed. But instead, Anduin just held on tighter.

“Will you stay?”

Wrathion frowned. “Are you certain? I thought… you didn’t trust me?”

“That was a lie, too.”

As he was helping Anduin into bed, the dragon smiled. “And what else was a lie, hm?”

“That I ever thought I’d get over you.”

Anduin didn’t hesitate to pull Wrathion down into bed beside him.

As he was drifting off to sleep, his arms around the dragon that his pillow had long tried and failed to replace, Anduin whispered, “Now, don’t you _ever_ think about leaving again, or I’ll never forgive you.”

He decided that he’d figure out how to keep Wrathion in the morning.

For now, he was just happy to have him.

**Author's Note:**

> with regard to the inclusion of my oc: when i wrote all this, i had no intention of posting it. friends encouraged me to post it, and i didn’t have the heart to remove him from it (not to mention how much the plot/story would have to change without him). i hope that him being in wasn’t too bothersome. 
> 
> thank you guys so much for reading! comments are always appreciated!


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